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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23415496">Nasty</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/mediocrityatbest/pseuds/mediocrityatbest'>mediocrityatbest</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Sanders Sides (Web Series)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Gen, Nonsexual Nudity, and having an absolute shit job, mentions covid 19 and quarantine</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-03-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 08:48:30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>924</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23415496</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/mediocrityatbest/pseuds/mediocrityatbest</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Virgil likes ice cream and Remus doesn't like clothes.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Anxiety | Virgil Sanders &amp; Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>52</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Nasty</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Virgil walks into his apartment to see his roommate standing in the middle of the room, stark naked and not making any attempt to cover anything up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please put your penis away,” he says, averting his eyes and walking into the kitchen, refusing to get close enough that Remus might be able to reach him. His roommate is completely comfortable with his body and has asked for naked cuddles (actual cuddles, as he is asexual and wants cuddles and skin-on-skin contact) more than once. Virgil doesn’t particularly care if he walks around with only underwear on, but he would prefer the underwear stay on.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He doesn’t care enough to insist on it, though.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Since moving in with Remus, Virgil has gotten a lot more comfortable with non-sexual nudity.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why?” Remus asks, keeping a few steps away from Virgil, but following him into the kitchen. “See something you like?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m trying not to see, actually,” Virgil says, opening the freezer and pulling out the carton of ice cream. It’s plain chocolate and only about half full. He’ll probably finish it now and let future Virgil be mad that he ate the last of the ice cream while there’s a global pandemic and also quarantine happening so they can’t even get more whenever they want to. It’s annoying, to say the least.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wow. No toppings?” Remus asks, following Virgil back to the living room and flopping onto the couch next to him. “You must have really had a shit day.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Asshole came into work coughing,” Virgil mutters, digging his spoon in. “Gods, I can’t fucking believe that they’re counting us as essential. Our factory doesn’t make shit to do with food or essential goods. This is fucking bullshit.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know,” Remus agrees. He intercepts Virgil’s spoon and licks the ice cream off. “I can kill the sick people for you, if you want.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No. It’s not their fault. They have to come in to work or else they don’t get paid. I wish they would just lay us off already so we could just get unemployment. They don’t have any sanitation products and we don’t have any social distancing happening. This can’t be legal.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Money hungry bastards,” Remus says. He dances his fingers along the couch and stares at the wall while Virgil continues eating the ice cream that is slowly melting.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“At least you get to stay home,” Virgil says. “Do you know what I wouldn’t give for that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah, no work, no clothes.” Remus leans his head back and closes his eyes. “What more could a rat like myself ask for?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Virgil decides not to dignify that with a response.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know, this is the reason all our friends think we’re dating, or at least fucking,” Virgil says after a few minutes. He’s calmer now, less angry about the state of the world, and he doesn’t want to dwell on it anymore. This, however, is familiar territory. Remus’ nakedness is a well-known concept in their friend group, and some of their more...</span>
  <em>
    <span>proper</span>
  </em>
  <span> friends don’t like it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why not prove them right?” Remus says, shimmying closer. Virgil pretends to gag.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because I don’t want to and you definitely don’t want to. See also, spite.” Remus grins and shoots up on the couch.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But imagine the looks on their faces if we </span>
  <em>
    <span>did</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” He flaps his hands, nearly smacking the spoon of ice cream directly into Virgil’s face. He barely manages to save it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’d never be able to look at you again,” Virgil says. “It would be too awkward. I’d die on the spot.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sounds like you’re just looking for excuses,” Remus sings. He flops back onto the couch, languid, like a ferret. “You just don’t want to contaminate your purity.” Virgil snorts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What purity? I just don’t want to get your stink on me.” Virgil leans back on the couch, too, and shrugs. “Plus, sex may be good, but have you ever tried ice cream? Whole other tier.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s better when you add mustard,” Remus challenges him, and Virgil wrinkles his nose.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That is so nasty.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You are so nasty,” Remus says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nuh uh,, you are.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, you are.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re nastier,” Virgil says, glowering around a bite of ice cream.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re nastiest,” Remus crows, punching at Virgil.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You have no room to make that statement because I can literally fucking smell you coming from, like, a block away.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Aw, Virgie do you </span>
  <em>
    <span>like </span>
  </em>
  <span>me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, I hate you,” Virgil says, monotone, and Remus pouts. “I might hate you less if you would put some damn clothes on.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But so many of the fabrics feel </span>
  <em>
    <span>gross</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Remus says, and a shiver runs through his body at the prospect.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I swear to the gods,” Virgil mutters, “one day I </span>
  <em>
    <span>am </span>
  </em>
  <span>going to make you some underwear that you can actually wear.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’d wear a thong for you,” Remus says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think that might be worse, somehow. Here.” Virgil reaches over and grabs Remus’ blanket off the other end of the couch and tosses it over his lap. It’s neon green and a texture Remus actually likes, very soft and slightly squishy. It’s incredibly hard to find clothes made of that material or anything similar enough to be usable, and a nearly impossible task to find it in a color Remus likes. “At least cover up your dick.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why?” Remus asks, and he wiggles his eyebrows in a way that doesn’t seem physically possible. “Are you getting jealous?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh honey,” Virgil smirks and leans in the tiniest bit, “I’d never be jealous of you.” Remus cackles.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
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